


what he doesn't know won't hurt him

by nikonauru



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drugged Sex, Hypnotism, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikonauru/pseuds/nikonauru
Summary: haha I havent written anything in years so i'm super rusty but I just wanted to write out a little medical somno scenario i had kickin around in my head. this story is NON-CON / RAPE! Do not proceed if you arent okay with that content. I believe i have tagged everything I could think of that might be triggering but please let me know if there are any tags you think I should add. or just general suggestions or whatever. thanks and enjoy!
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 142
Collections: NSFW Hannigram





	what he doesn't know won't hurt him

WIll coughed weakly as Hannibal pulled the feeding tube from deep inside his throat. A quick check of his pupils and heart rate confirmed that he was stable, though for now, his consciousness was locked someplace deep within the hallways of his mind. Remarkably little reaction throughout, Hannibal thought. His responsiveness to the hypnotism had exceeded even the doctor’s best expectations. 

“Hnnm…” A tiny sound emerged from Will’s throat as his head began to slump forward, caught by a steady hand. Hannibal smiled and traced the ringlets of one of the dark curls at his temple. He could not help but remark to himself how delicate and enticing his ill-fated subject’s lips looked, despite the thin line of drool slowly making its way down his chin to dampen the collar of his undershirt.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me today,” he cooed softly into Will’s ear as he gently dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. “Let’s get you back into bed, shall we? You’ve had quite an adventure.” No response. Hannibal tucked his arms gently beneath WIll’s knees and armpits and carried him to the bedroom, his dogs sniffing curiously at their master and their newest friend. He placed him gently on the mattress. 

As Hannibal reached to pull the scratchy sheets over Will’s prostrate body, a certain hunger gnawed sharply, stopping him for a moment to take in the languid form stretched out in front of him. It was not a hunger that he felt often; it was a different, more terrifying form of hunger than the one that usually consumed him, that he had learned to embrace and nurture. Hannibal had come to terms with most of his unusual appetites, but he had no desire to feed this one. These days, he thought, he had refined his tastes to the extent that it no longer crossed his mind.

And yet, he found himself unable to avert his eyes. He had found Will exceptional since the day he had first met him, transfixed in a way he had never been before by the mind he sensed behind the brief, awkward glances. As his eyes traced the curve of WIll’s back, his thighs… the hunger rose inside him, like a fever, threatening his carefully honed elegance and restraint. Hannibal’s saliva caught in his throat, and as hard as he tried he could not control the rise in his heartbeat, or the flush in his cheeks, or the stiffening of his cock in his slacks. 

He could not control the obsessive infatuation with Will Graham that threatened to topple the foundations of the facade he had so carefully spent his life building. And he hated him for it. The white-hot hunger licked at every inch of him. He had been so disciplined already. He deserved a reward. He reached out, slowly drawing a line down Will’s hot, pale skin with the tips of his fingers.

Hannibal checked the time on his wristwatch. 3:17 AM. It would be another two hours before the sedatives and hypnosis-induced dreamstate will have fully run their course. He opened Will’s eyelids again, satisfied when they continued to roll around rapidly, looking through him and to some other place far beyond. Hannibal felt comforted by the thought that Will would not remember any of this, as unfamiliar as he was with the concept of remorse. 

He lowered himself onto the bed, straddling Will, inhaling deeply the scent of his hair. Like the smell of juniper berries, of the crisp air surrounding a stream in the fall, of a comforting cold night next to a fire. Intoxicating, as always. He placed small kisses to the nape of Will’s neck, his tongue flitting out to touch his hot skin, then paused. 

Hannibal steadied himself for a moment, then placed his teeth ever so gently at the side of Will’s throat, over his carotid. He could feel his heart beat beneath his tongue, exhilarating him and making his cock twitch. He ran one hand down Will’s ribs to his boxers, pressing a final kiss to his ear before sitting up again. He pulled his boxers down to mid-thigh, exposing the curves of his supple buttocks. Hannibal stopped and sat back to admire the sight before him, kneeling at its altar. He reached a hand tentatively as if to touch something he was not sure was really there, and caressed Will’s thigh, up to his ass, kneading the soft flesh. A feast beyond any his own mortal hands could create. Proof of divine intent if there ever was any.

He finished pulling Will’s boxers off, and flipped him onto his back. Hannibal admired the soft cock in the moonlight, laying on a nest of dark hair, rising and falling with Will’s slow slumbering breaths. He bent down and inhaled Will’s musky scent before eagerly drawing his tongue from the bottom of his shaft slowly up to the head, taking it entirely into his mouth and sucking deeply. He felt the flesh twitch and begin to harden in response. A few more wet strokes and Hannibal could admire his work, Will’s erection lying taut against his stomach. Cut, a little smaller than his, and the most enticing thing Hannibal had ever seen. 

Will stirred in his sleep and moved his hips slightly as Hannibal devoured his cock, hitting his throat with every bob of his head, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He wondered what Will was dreaming about now. His cock twitched as the older man swirled his tongue over the slit repeatedly, lapping up the flavor of his precum, quickening his pace even more. At this moment Hannibal could convince himself nothing else existed but the sensations around him. The feeling of fullness in his throat, the wet sound of him rhythmically choking on Will’s dick, the squeak of the cheap boxspring underneath them, the smell of Will’s sweat mixed with the sharpness of arousal and the strange spicy scent he had recognized as Will’s encephalitis. Hannibal moaned, the low vibrations of his throat causing Will to shudder, and all at once he felt Will’s orgasm fill his mouth in spurts, swallowing as much as he could, awash in the exquisite taste. 

Licking every last trace of Will from his lips, he could no longer ignore the desperate ache in his own cock. He flipped him over again, less gently this time, undoing his belt with his other hand. Inhaling sharply as he gave himself a few strokes, Hannibal again placed his head between Will’s thighs. He spread his cheeks, revealing his tight hole, and ravenously dove in. He could feel it twitch as he drew his tongue around it, wetting it, teasing it open ever so slightly. Hannibal paused. He would have to be careful if he wanted this memory to remain locked away in the morning. 

He got off the bed and strode over to Will’s dining table, where he had left his traveling briefcase of medical supplies. From within it, he retrieved a small bottle of petroleum jelly and a tiny amber vial. Setting them on the nightstand to resume his work, Hannibal slicked one long finger. He used it to rim the entrance of Will’s tight hole, then began to push it in slowly, watching his unconscious face carefully for any reaction. Will’s muscles were relaxed, but he was clearly unused to the intrusion. It took a few moments, but soon Hannibal could move his finger with little resistance. He added a second slippery finger, and a small sound escaped Will’s lips. Hannibal stopped for a moment, but it was clear that Will was still entirely unaware of his surroundings, despite his response to physical stimuli. 

After several minutes of patient stretching, Hannibal could now slip four fingers inside him. He was building a special room in his mind palace just for the exquisite sight of Will’s naked body, hips stirring weakly as he stretched his hole, experienced fingers finding his prostate and teasing it until Will’s cock stirred again. Hannibal stroked himself slowly and indulgently with the petroleum jelly and pressed the head of his throbbing cock up to Will’s entrance, making sure everything was slick and ready. He reached for the amber bottle of amyl nitrite on the nightstand, uncapping it.

He gently wafted the bottle in front of Will’s nose, making sure he inhaled deeply, and a moment later he felt the tight ring of muscle against his cock relax. He slid himself in gently, drawing a sharp breath at the intense heat surrounding him. Hannibal stopped after the first few inches, studying Will’s reaction intently. He remained unresponsive. He exhaled, burying himself to the hilt. Hannibal looked down at his most indescribably beautiful art, his ruined Patroclus, lying beneath him, conquered, and knew that God must exist. And God could have anything he wanted.

His hips began to move, agonizingly slowly at first, adjusting Will to the thickness of him. Soon he was able to quicken his pace, one hand on the smaller man’s waist, the other wafting the bottle in front of his nose again before returning it to the nightstand, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the silence. Hannibal adjusted his grip on Will’s hips and grabbed a fistful of his hair with the other hand, picking up his head and turning it to face him. Will’s eyes fluttered open and shut, pupils rolling back in his head, drooling copiously, and the sight of his utter helplessness was nearly enough to make Hannibal come right then and there. 

He could have lived in this moment forever, and would likely do so if he was ever incarcerated, Hannibal thought. He spends an extra second committing every last sensation to memory, then grinds Will’s face into the mattress and thrusts as deeply as he can, allowing a rare moan to slip out as he empties himself inside him, the heat of Will’s feverish body mixing with the heat of Hannibal’s terrible hunger, one becoming the other, and for a moment Hannibal feels inextricably connected. A fatal sickness that can never be cut out without killing the host.

A clearer mind checked the time on his wristwatch again. 4:12. Hannibal redressed himself and returned from the kitchen with a warm dishcloth that he used to meticulously clean both of them, wiping down Will’s thighs, applying a bit of salve to assure he would have no discomfort when he awoke. He put his boxers back on and tucked his sheets messily around him, planting tiny kisses across each of his eyelids, making sure his head laid to the side so he would not asphyxiate if he vomited in his sleep. 

“Thank you, dear Will, for letting me know you so intimately. Perhaps someday we can find ourselves like this under… different circumstances.” He arranged the final touches to assure the room would be found exactly as he wanted it to be, and stopped to admire his poor Lamb in the first rays of the morning light. “You’ve an exciting day ahead of you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hannibal said, and closed the door behind him.


End file.
